


Whomst here wants to date Miss Pauling.avi

by SincasterMadrid



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Imf gay, Other, and bad a writing, and its gonna update so irregularly guys, tags will change, there'll be smooching in here too, this is the first thing I've ever written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-03-29 15:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SincasterMadrid/pseuds/SincasterMadrid
Summary: You're here to do your job and kiss girls and you're all out of work.





	1. Sticky tables and odd jobs

You’re currently sitting at a very sticky table in the middle of drinking the most watered down coffee you’ve ever had. But you’re also listening to a very professional lady who has just asked you to call her Miss Pauling about an “interesting job opportunity” she has for you. Honestly, it’s not like your entire day was packed with things you need to do. She’s currently offering you a job for a currently unnamed company for an oddly high sum of cash. Not sketchy at all.

She’s looked up from your patchwork of past jobs on your résumé “any way you seem like a real jack of all trades and I can assure you the help will be… interesting to say the least.” She pushes her glasses a little further up onto her face, “ So I’m going to give you this file and you’re going to pretend you don’t know me until you finish it.” She puts a bill on the table pushes a file towards you and walks off.

You grab the file as you watch her leave the diner. You don’t notice the server walk up to you until they’re practically on top of you, “Ready to pay?” They seemed very tired bags under their eyes and a same shit as always look on their face.

“ Yeah, uh- wait! Wait! Uh here, consider any extra a tip.” You stammer as you fight a couple bills out of your patched up wallet. Stuffing them into the bill holder with the receipt. Snatching the one Miss Pauling left on the table as an afterthought.

The dazed employee took the cash and mouthed along as they counted the bills. They gave back a five. “I can’t take that much tip, boss’ll be pis- less than pleased if I didn’t turn all of it over. You know how it is.” They said as they gave you a weak smile before walking off.

Standing up from the table the folder tucked under your arm you walk out of the diner. A neon sign blinked on its outside window, Flashing the word Krispy’s. Name of the place probably. Instead of just standing around mulling over concepts such as the neon sign or the name of the diner you should probably be focusing on the location of your truck. You fucking live there it’s kinda a big deal.

You slug a few blocks from the diner. Your truck soon to be in view parked safely near a craft store you think, some sweaty guy was struggling to unlock his uh- vans door nearby. He’s muttering something unidentifiable under his breath, and then drops his bag of yarn. You guess he’s decided it’s a production now because he just leans forward and resting his forehead against his vans door.

It’s quite the tableau, some gangly dude in a- a cowboy hat face against his own truck door. Holding his arm up stock still a key in hand pointing towards the sky. And a fallen bag of yarn spilling is multicolored goods onto the ground. It’s practically a renaissance painting, you’ld laugh but that’s kinda a shitty thing to do and you have an image to uphold.

“ You wanna’ hand pal?” You say watching as the human disaster go stiff as a board. “ Like I’m no expert but you seem to be having a bad case of the fucked up locks.”

“If can fix it be my guest,” He said limply gesturing to the door and turning around.

You step up to his door pushing away the offered keys duck down a little and shoulder the door really hard. Your almost positive the guy just squeaked.

“H-Hey, can you not.” He chokes, “That’s the worst possible way to open a door there- there’s probably a thousand ways to open a goddamn door and you chose RAMMING IT. Holy shit, there is no reason to do that.”

“But it’s open.” You crack a big smile, you suppose that strong-arming the door wasn’t the best idea but hey you helped and that’s a feat in of itself. “If don’t wanna havta’ slam the door every time you need to open it maybe you should get looked at.”

He gives you a tired look and nods “thanks for the help…” he says before he sorta squats down a starts picking up his dropped goods.

You give him a bouncy ‘You’re welcome” as you turn to walk off. You hear the door of the van close behind you as you continue the trek out to your truck.

Sand and dust stick to your shoes turning them from grey to an orange-brown as you finally arrive at your truck. Grabbing around for the keys in your pocket and unlocking the door seems to be the most stressful thing in the world right now. As it turns out accepting this particular odd jobs has landed you a fun little hunk of… fear? Well, maybe not fear more like mounting anticipation for a shitty or stressful job you aren't qualified for. It kinda sucks, the click of the door unlocking is quite the relief as you collapse into the driver's seat.

You now heft the folder Miss Pauling gave you like it's made of concrete onto your lap. Your hands are a little shaky as you flip it open and look down onto the papers within.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the majority of this in like two hours.

You’ve been going over the contents of the file for the past hour now and honestly you’ve never been more relieved in your entire life. All that’s in the file are two mugshot esque photos, a paper with two sets of coordinates, and a small notecard with a phone number. Turning over the notecard you read a short note “call me when it’s over.” You mutter a goofy smile crossing your lips, it sounds so childish. Call me ;). But! You don’t have time to go down this road right now.

Unfolding the paper with the coordinates you have two roadmaps flutter out onto your lap. Looking at the paper t’s labeled helpfully as pickup and drop off with a very official looking coffee stain on it. Peeking into the maps you see the writing on them some sort of cheap pen, marking one map as the first the other as the second. Along some of the roads spots were circled pointing out places to visit or the occasional restaurant.

Sitting back you notice whoever owned these maps didn’t have the same handwriting as the person on the notecard. You assume that the notecard was made by Miss P. You hope. She was really nice and professional about the whole thing, your shitty resume your inept explanations of past work your sweaty hand handshake. Honestly it was one of your better interviews. You walking disaster you.

There’s a time and date stamped onto the paper at the top, it’s not today’s or a previous date. You go out on a limb and guess that it’s when you need to go pickup the people in the pictures. Tomorrow seventeen hundred hours. It’s not late probably get dark while you’re driving to the drop off.

You’re starting to drop off here, the stress must have made you tired. You feel a little silly about the micro breakdown you had. This is simple, easy peasy. A piece of cake you’re… set.

—

Your eyes flicker open and you stretch you back gives a few cranky pops. It’s dark out, you suppose that you crashed after going through the folder. The folder that you still have clenched in one of your hands. You groan as you look down falling asleep sitting up did a number on your neck.

You recall that you have a job to do today. The- the pickup, you need to get somebody and get them somewhere else. There was a time you need to do that putting the folder onto the passenger seat. You start groping around for your cheap watch you got from a little tourist trap you stopped at before going to the diner. It had a cheap new plastic feel to it, it looked cute though. There was a glow in the dark alien painted onto the face of it, underneath the words “Roswell, NM” glowed in the morning darkness.

It’s four, you’ld be mad if you hadn’t went to sleep in the middle of the afternoon. Another dizzy blink and then you grab the first roadmap skimming it for anywhere that might get breakfast. A small town has a gas station and a diner that you could get to before your stomach digests itself.

A little shuffling of papers and you’re off. Pulling out of the parking spot as you try to get a kink out of your neck. It’s just now hitting you that your truck is freezing. The parts of your seat that you weren’t on were trying to stick to you legs, all around it’s an awful experience. Hearing your crap rattling around in the back with the bucket seats. It’s natural this is how it’s supposed to be.

You’re out of this one horse town and on the highway. The landscape is dark and flat a hill or two in the distance a silhouette of a cactus every now and then. Your seat is slowly warming up as you watch as the first few rays of light come over the horizon. Every now and then you flick your eyes to the roadmap.

A road sign points out the upcoming turn-off to the next little town in the middle of the desert and your upcoming breakfast. Taking the turn and scanning the buildings for Sue’s pancake and bake. Your thoughts drift for the breakfast your going to get stomach rumbling in yearning.

You spot the signs a blinking neon open sign next to one that’s just says Sue’s and the rest of the window is painted with what’s on the menu. Pulling into an empty spot you notice a bedraggled person standing near the front door.

You shove the loose papers back into the folder and put them under an inconspicuous blanket in the back. You rustle up your wallet and hop out, getting your first actual stretch of the day. You’re sore, that’s what you get for staying in one position for hours on end you suppose. You walk in and give the woman a passing glance. She returns it. Goddamn she’s a lil’ cute. But you can’t get distracted now! you have a breakfast to eat and a job to do!

Walking in you scan the place to see how things work, as your mind flickers through embarrassing past experiences. Waiting to be seated in a sorta fend for yourself type place, forgetting to ask for utensils, drinking coffee that you dumped salt instead of sugar into. The list could go on.

While you were having your dramatic flashbacks rather chipper young man had walked up from seemingly nowhere. “Hello! Sorry for the wait we’re a little short staffed at the moment so things might be a little slow.” Ending sentence with a well timed click of the pen he was holding.

You nod and offer an small “It’s fine.” Honestly you would be surprised if the place have any speedy service. The town was small and most of the homes were abandoned. A tourist trap if ever you saw one.

“Alright so table, booth, or uh, the counter. We’re kinda…” he gestured with his hand to the tables “Empty. So it’s on you!” He said offering up a smile.

He was pretty enthusiastic for someone who probably also woke up at four. Scanning the diner again you make your decision. “Booth please.” The waiter gave you a quick nod. And off he went like it was speed walk tournament 1967, you had to almost jog to keep up. Sitting down he walked off for a moment before coming back with a menu.

“Hi I’m Chris and I’ll be your server today.” Another pen click punctuated the sentence as he pulled out a small notebook. “You have any ideas of what you want to drink?” Another smile, you can see the tiredness in this one.

“Coffe if it’s not too much trouble.” You say with a yawn.

He scribbled something onto the notebook and walks off to the back. This feels so familiar, probably because it’s exactly what you did yesterday. You stomach give a little cramp to remind you why you’re here. And you quickly start looking through the menu for something that will last you until your next stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or I wont know what to improve upon.

**Author's Note:**

> shit dude I hope this is gonna be alright.


End file.
